


That Magical Thing

by tempus_teapot (dreadnot)



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadnot/pseuds/tempus_teapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An intimate moment between Isabela and Fenris. Kmeme prompter requested a very specific act detailed in the notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Magical Thing

**Author's Note:**

> The kink meme prompt was for Isabela fisting Fenris with a bit of "I trust you" fluff.

The night Fenris finally made it home after helping Hawke clear the base of the Bloodragers in Hightown, he was not expecting to find Isabela with her feet up on his table, drinking wine while she carefully trimmed her fingernails with a knife.

She beamed and dropped her feet to the floor, leaving the knife stuck in the table before standing up to loop an arm around his neck to pull him down for a hard kiss. “There you are, sweetmeat, I’ve been waiting all night.”

She took in the blood spattered across his armor and even his face before quirking an eyebrow. “You’ve been having fun without me. Did you find anything good?”

Fenris half-laughed, extricating himself from her grip to remove his sword and lay it on the table next to the wine bottle. “A blood mage, a couple of dozen of his thralls and lesser mages, some coin.” He rolled his shoulders and neck before picking up the bottle for a long swallow. “And I thought I locked my door before I left.”

Isabela whipped his belt off like some kind of, well, thief, and set it beside his sword. “You didn’t think a locked door would keep me out, did you?”

Fenris gave that little chuckle of his – the one that sounded surprised, rarely used, and more than a little lewd – and shook his head. “Not since you got us into the duPuis treasure room just because you wanted a quick tryst with the thrill of getting caught dangling overhead.”

Isabela scoffed while she made short work of the laces that held his armor tight and started working him out of it. “That was nothing. If I wanted real danger I would have had you on the viscount’s desk.”

“Had _me?”_ Fenris asked. While she worked on getting him out of his armor he held the bottle in one hand and cupped one of her breasts in the other, thumb sweeping over the nipple until it hardened under her tunic. “I would have had you.”

“Oh no,” she demurred, making a little sound of pleasure when she reached the last lace and was finally able to free Fenris’ chestpiece, taking the wine bottle from him to let him lift it over his head and lay it aside. “I would have had you. I have this cunning toy I haven’t shown you yet. It fits up inside me and sticks out like I’ve a charming cock of my very own.”

Fenris loved the way she said “cock” with a little lilting emphasis that made the word sound… affectionate. Isabela liked cocks in a way that was generally wonderfully uncomplicated, and just the way she said the word was enough to illuminate that fact.

She handed the bottle back to him and started on his breeches. “Then I would fuck you with it, sweet thing. I would lay you back on the viscount’s desk, grease you up, grease up my toy, and ram your ass with it until you cried out as pretty as you please.”

While she worked, she bent enough to drag her teeth over one of Fenris’ nipples. When his breeches were unlaced enough she shoved them down and wrapped a hand around his cock. Oh, but he was a lovely size for assfucking. A bit slim otherwise, but long. The right tool for the job.

“What I like about this toy is that we can both enjoy it. I ram you, it tugs inside of me. Over and over, hitting just that sweet spot inside me while I find just that sweet spot inside you. When everything is just right, it’s perfection.”

Fenris had to wet his mouth with the wine after that speech. Well, the speech and the feel of his cock sliding inside her fist. “I don’t suppose you brought that along tonight,” he ventured.

“Not tonight,” she said, releasing her hold on him to finish peeling the leather down his legs, letting him brace himself on her shoulder while she knelt to get his feet out of the stirrups. She tossed the pants aside carelessly and posed herself in front of him, one hand on her hip, chest thrust forward while she looked him over as though deciding which part to eat first.

Fenris had some thoughts on that matter, but when he reached for her, she tutted and swatted his hands away.

“No, you don’t. Tonight I’m steering. But…” She held out a hand to him. “You can help me off with my glove.”

When they had first started their… relationship? Fenris would have bristled at this attitude. He likely would have thrown her out, masturbated to get rid of the erection she’d already cultivated, and drunk himself to unconsciousness, all the while cursing her name, dominant women, dominant men, and of course, all magisters and mages everywhere.

But that was then. Now he knew that it was just a game between them, and she had proven to him more than once that if he said stop, she would stop. That was more than any mage or magister had ever given him, and for that he was willing to accept a bit of play acting.

He would be a fool to ever let this go.

He worked the fingerless glove off her right hand and unbuckled the glove, wrist brace, and spaulder from her left, laying both on the table with his sword and belt before taking her hand to kiss the palm, nuzzle the heel, and finally draw a finger between his lips to suck the taste of the sea off her skin.

“You are so good at that,” she murmured while divesting herself of first one blade and then the other, dropping them with a clatter on the table, which was starting to look overloaded with martial implements of one kind or another. “I love a man who’s… flexible. I’d let you suck on my toy a bit, you know. I wouldn’t want you getting bored of just fish for dinner every night and go out looking for sausage without me.”

“Never,” Fenris started to say, but Isabela shushed him.

“I said without me, sweets. You can have all the sausage you want as long as I get to watch and play along.”

What was it Fenris had been thinking about Isabela? Oh yes, that he was a lucky man.

“Then what are we doing tonight?” he asked when she pulled her hand away. “You didn’t undress me just so we can play Wicked Grace.”

She grinned wickedly and Fenris thought she probably smiled like that right before she scuppered a ship she had just looted, sending it to the bottom of the ocean with its crew floating helplessly in dinghies.

“Do you trust me?”

He brought his face close to hers, lips close enough for her to feel the breath from his word. “Yes.”

For a moment the grin slipped. Isabela’s expression flickered, fleetingly sad, briefly surprised, and ultimately so honestly warm that she would have been embarrassed if she could have seen herself in a mirror. She covered the lapse by grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him into a kiss, tongue driving between his lips to chase the taste of wine in his mouth, her body pressed against his to feel him hard, nudging between her thighs.

She broke from the kiss and took his hand to pull him out of the cluttered study to the room he had claimed as his bedroom. As often as not he fell asleep with his feet propped on the table, but she had demanded a bed when they had become lovers.

“Lie down,” she said, pushing him toward the bed and slapping his bare ass on the way. “I’ll get the lanterns.”

“I’m going to get you back for this,” Fenris muttered in response to the slap, but he compliantly arranged himself on the bed while Isabela lit enough lanterns and candles to cast the room in a warm glow.

“I’m counting on it,” she blithely responded before climbing onto the foot of the bed, pushing Fenris’ legs apart to give her room to crawl up between them. “Tit for tat is always so much fun in bed. Or against the wall, on the floor, on top of a table, maybe swinging from Hawke’s chandelier…” She licked her lips and grinned at the thought of that last. Yes, they were definitely going to have to do that.

“But I’m on top tonight, sweetness, and I want to see something special.”

She leaned across him to rummage under the pillow on “her” side of the bed, incidentally putting her breasts directly in Fenris’ face. He took the invitation to suck at the bare skin above the top of her dress until she sat back on her knees with a little sound of triumph.

“Here we go.” She held up the jar for him to see before popping the top off, holding it out to him to see the light, creamy salve inside and get a whiff of the faint scent of grassy herbs. “Best lubricant in Thedas. Lasts forever, or until you actually use some soap. Let me tell you, there have been times when I think Andraste herself sent this down to us.”

She dipped a finger into the jar and came out with a dollop of the salve. “Knees up, lover.”

Fenris bent his knees, and with her hand pushing him into place, drew them up toward his chest, leaving him utterly exposed. Isabela took a moment to admire the sight, because what person with eyes in their head wouldn’t?

He still looked like something dangerous and exotic with his olive skin and silver tattoos, lines of muscle showing along the backs of his thighs, his buttocks. That was part of the thrill. Isabela could understand at least that much of a magister’s lust for power. The difference being she just wanted it for a little while, not forever.

She smoothed the dollop of salve around Fenris’ anus, first just massaging the ring of muscle with the ball of her thumb. With her nails carefully trimmed, there were no sharp edges to worry about, and she enjoyed listening to Fenris’ first sigh of pleasure as the muscle began to relax, letting her slowly press deeper.

He put a hand on his cock and met her eyes, raising an eyebrow. “If you want,” she said, offering him the jar. “Just don’t go off on me before I’m done or you’ll be missing out.”

He took a bit of the salve and smoothed it onto his erection, lazily stroking himself while she continued her careful massage. It was almost soothing, the care she took to ensure that his body was relaxed, ready, before she slid a finger past his sphincter and began to move it to stretch the muscle still more. The salve ensured that there was no burning from the penetration.

Isabela looked up from her intense focus and smiled. “Any man who says this makes him less of a man is a fool. _Real_ men don’t run from what they want.”

Fenris licked his lips while he tried to think of a proper response, but it was lost in his gasp of surprise and pleasure when she chose that moment to add another finger to the first already inside him.

“I would do this for you in the viscount’s office, too,” she said while he tried to catch his breath, now moving her fingers in a slow intimation of fucking him. “Can’t have you whining when I finally use my toy on you, can I? That might bring the guards running and spoil all our fun.”

“I don’t. Whine,” he gritted out, trying for angry, but really, how angry can a person sound with someone’s fingers _willingly_ up his arse?

For the record: not that angry.

“That’s because I am a considerate lover,” Isabela said smugly, fingers still working inside him, opening and closing, stretching, preparing, and then, a third finger.

This time Fenris’ back arched, even with his heels drawn up to his thighs. He forgot attempts at banter in the moment, stretched, but still not hurting, his body yielding, albeit grudgingly to Isabela’s penetration. The muscle clamped around her fingers, but she was patient, moving slowly, adding more salve, and only carefully opening and closing her fingers to give Fenris time to acclimate.

She didn’t ask if she should stop. He would say it if he needed it, and when he said it, he meant it.

Instead she braced herself on her free hand beside his hip and leaned up over him to watch his face while she slowly finger fucked him, pushing his limits, making him yield under under until his muscles relaxed enough for her to finally compress her four fingers to their smallest and push as deep into him as he would allow.

He had forgotten even to frig himself while she fucked him with her hand, his eyes closed, turned inward to let the sensation wash over him. So far she had deliberately avoided his prostate, but with this much inside him, the stimulation was unavoidable.

 _“Maker…”_

“I’m pretty sure the Maker doesn’t go in for this,” Isabela murmured before dropping a light kiss on his stomach and settling back again to her work. She was patient, pressing her fingers deeper into him until she could fold her thumb in against her palm and start the real work of easing her knuckles past the tight muscle. “Who knows though, maybe Andraste…” She let that bit of blasphemy trail off with a wicked laugh.

She added more salve and paused, still, while Fenris’ body relaxed again. “You could do yourself some more,” she murmured.

Fenris barely shook his head. “Later.” His voice was tight, forced out past the lump of wanting in his sternum. He wanted, _needed,_ to know what it would be like to let his body yield and let her fuck him so thoroughly.

“Okay.”

For all her patience, care, and generous amounts of lubricating salve _everywhere,_ when Isabela finally worked her knuckles into Fenris, he hissed with the burn of stretching muscle. The burn, but dear Maker, the sense of being filled and then her knuckles had passed his sphincter and it closed around the upper part of her hand. He felt as though his body would never release her and he never wanted to.

All she had to do was move just the barest amount and it ran a shock through his entire body. When she turned her hand, the top knuckle of her thumb pressed hard into his prostate and Fenris let out a surprised yelp.

“Liked that, did you?” Isabela asked, grinning when Fenris nodded.

She braced herself on her free hand and shifted until she had her mouth over Fenris’ hand where it still rested on is cock. “Move it.”

He did.

She circled the head of his cock with her lips and slid down until they were tight just behind the head. She let the rhythm she set with her hand move his body and his cock between her lips. It didn’t take much motion, didn’t take much sucking, didn’t take much time until Fenris was writhing, begging, filling the air with gasps and words of Arcanum that might have been curses or entreaties.

It wasn’t long before he spilled hot in her mouth, his body spasming around her hand, clamping on her fingers, every pulse of semen from his cock mirrored by a tight squeeze of his muscles around her until she swallowed and carefully eased her hand out of him, letting the muscle clamp down as she withdrew.

She carelessly wiped her hand on the bedclothes and pushed up to flop on the pillow next to Fenris.

“Five minutes, and then you’re going down, big boy.”


End file.
